Enough
by GenuineAmy
Summary: Withdrawl Fic. My take on how Mark, Benny, Collins, and Maureen help Roger through his withdrawal.
1. The beginning of the end

**Disclaimer:** I do not own RENT or any characters or concepts. All belongs to Jonathan Larson. I'm just playing.

Withdrawal Fic. Contains Mark/Maureen, Benny/Alison and Roger/ April

Random Song note: Adam Pascal's "Book of Endings" is incrediably catchy. I can't get it out of my head.

Mark Cohen, Tom Collins and Benjamin Coffin the Third (or Benny as he was known on good days) sat around the "living room" area of their shared loft in various states of unease. Their other roommate Roger Davis had not returned the night before. An aspiring rock star or "rock god" as he so aptly put it, Roger had had a gig the night before at a small bar with his band The Well Hungarians. Usually on nights with paying gigs, Roger was home considerably early, tired but with a grin on his face and plenty of stories to tell about the various fans he had met or made. That was the old Roger though. He had made a new friend in the month of Friday and Saturday night gigs at that seedy little bar. His new girlfriend April not withstanding, Roger had made friends with heroin. The extreme change in Roger had left its imprints on each of his friends. Before the drugs, no one really worried about Roger. Mark did a little (When did Mark Cohen not worry about everyone he knew and even people he didn't? Collins always said that Mark would worry himself into an ulcer), but not nearly as much as now. _But why shouldn't I worry about Roger? _Mark had thought when Collins mentioned Mark's mother hen tendencies toward Roger. _He's my best friend. We've been through everything together. He's more than a friend. He's part of my family. _

Mark and Roger had been friends since junior high. The scrawny misfit and the token "bad boy" made the most unlikely of friends, but after getting to know each other one day in science class while working as lab partners, they became inseparable. Mark and Roger had made the conscious decision together to move to New York City and live to make their dreams come true. After a very short stint at Brown for Mark and an even shorter one at Scarsdale Community College for Roger, both young men packed their things and headed for "The City That Never Sleeps". Bored with studying film theories Mark just wanted to be a filmmaker. He didn't care about the different angles different directors took. He was his own man and in so being, his own director. Roger on the other hand had had enough of 13th grade and longed to devote days on end to his music, which he loved more than just about anything else. They found a flyer advertising for roommates on a telephone pole on a day trip into the city to help pay the rent from a young grad student, Tom Collins. They answered the ad and along with Benny became roommates and friends.

Life in the city was hard. Sometimes (most times) they had to scrape money for food and rent. Winters went by without much heat or hot water. Both Roger and Mark lost weight from lack of proper food, were always frozen but were finally taking that long hard step to fulfilling their dreams. It seemed to Mark that Roger was way ahead of him. He was getting steady jobs at CBGB's and other notable venues across the city. When he auditioned for an up-and-coming band The Well Hungarians and was given the role of lead guitar and vocals, life changed dramatically. Roger had money and was able to help provide for the group. Food was more plentiful as was heat in the winter. His dream seemed to be taking off. Mark on the other hand was struggling with his film making. He had plenty of ideas, but nothing ever seemed to get done. He was constantly scribbling away at notepads. His room was filled with notebooks in his thin, barely legible scrawl, his characters making their way through a scene but unable to finish their actions due to severe writer's block. Most days he'd secure his camera to his bike and go to various spots across the city to film different people and events. He didn't know it at the time, but his random filming would one day win a Noble Prize and an Academy Award for Best Documentary. Mark didn't know what life held for him, and despite his genial outlook on everything he wasn't feeling very positive about his future. He'd never say anything to Roger; he was happy for him and wanted him to continue on his way up. Then the drugs happened. Mark could have easily blamed April and in many ways he did without really acknowledging it. Every time the thought crossed his mind, he'd quickly push it away. Roger was an adult now and he made his own decisions. Mark just wished that his best friend would decide that his friends (who were essentially his family) were more important than the heroin. Roger never made time for anyone but April anymore. It seemed all he had time for was smack and sex. Even music had taken a backseat, the thought which made Mark cringe the most. Mark didn't begrudge Roger happiness, but Mark didn't really think that Roger was all that happy.

The incessant tapping of a pen against a coffee cup drew Mark out of his thoughts. Collins was sitting on the floor at the short squat round table in front of the couch working through a crossword puzzle. Watching him work on those puzzles always amused Mark. He'd even filmed it. Collins would tilt his head as he read the clue, pause and then quickly fill in the blanks, working manically. Crossword puzzles were his favorite thing to do when he wasn't in class, studying or grading papers for the professors he TA'd for. Out of all the roommates, Mark thought that Collins was the most intelligent person he'd ever met. There wasn't a problem Collins couldn't solve. Right away he and Roger had become close friends with Collins. Always ready with a warm smile and a joke, Collins was one person Mark felt he could trust with his life. Roger was the other. At least Roger had been the other.

A sigh from the armchair diverted Mark's gaze. Benny looked mildly harassed. He kept glancing at the watch he always wore on his right wrist. Anger rose up in Mark's chest. Benny had recently gotten a new girlfriend, who was very rich and snooty, in Mark's opinion, and he'd changed. Benny had never really been part of the friendship that existed between Mark, Roger and Collins, but he was still their friend. He helped pull his weight with the rent. He froze and starved with them as well. But it was never really what he wanted; the bohemian lifestyle. He made his displeasure known and there was a lot of tension between him and Roger.

Mark tapped the side of the old camera he held in his hands. The camera that had become his life. The camera that had become his best friend. So deep in thought was he that the sound of the loft door sliding open made him jump. Roger stumbled through and slid it closed with a soft bang. He looked no worse for wear, still wearing the clothes he wore to the bar. His eyes however were lidded and cloudy. A goofy grin spread across his lips and he drunkenly waved at his three roommates.

"Hey guys. What are you doing up so early?" Mark glanced at his watch and frowned.

"It's twenty after one Roger. Where were you?"

"Oh, I was everywhere man. I did my gig and then I met up with April and some friends. I guess time got away from me." Roger stumbled to his bedroom and with some difficulty turned around in the doorway, "I'm going to go and lie down or something. I've been up all night, huh? I better sleep," he giggled and the next sound that was heard was his body hitting the mattress he slept on.

The silence in the common area broke as Benny stood and said, "Well, at least he's still alive. I'm late for lunch with Alison. I gotta go. She's going to be pissed as it is."

And then there were two. Mark's anger continued to rise and he felt his face reddening. The tightness that had been building ever since Roger had gotten involved with smack threatened to cease his breathing. Suddenly Mark was on his feet, his camera on the couch, pacing. Collins cocked an eyebrow.

"You okay, boy?"

Mark turned and his eyes grew wide, "Me? Am I? What the hell…Who does he think…What the fuck…" he sputtered, his strides getting shorter and quicker.

"Chill out man. Sit down." Collins had never seen Mark so worked up. Mark was the relaxed one, more worried about other people than angry at them. Now he watched his normally chill best friend angrier than Collins had ever seen him.

"Chill out!" Mark couldn't stop the shout that erupted from his lips, "How can you possibly be okay with this? He's acting irresponsibly and he's jeopardizing his entire life. There's so many ways he could kill himself! This waiting to make sure he comes back alive is killing me!" Mark's voice cracked. Turning abruptly on his heel, Mark grabbed his coat and his customary blue and white striped scarf. Throwing the coat on, he started to wrap the scarf around his neck. Suddenly he viciously yanked it off and threw it on the couch. Grabbing his camera, Mark looked at Collins, "I'm going out to film. I'll be back later."

"Mark, wait. Just calm down." Collins picked up the scarf and held it out.

"I don't want it right now and I'll calm down when I'm filming. I gotta get out of here." Collins nodded. After Mark had closed the door to the loft, he glanced at the scarf in his hands. Collins didn't know very much about Mark and Roger's past, but he did know the story behind the scarf. Roger had given it to Mark on their first holiday as friends. Roger picked it out one day, shopping for Christmas presents with his mother. He knew that Mark was Jewish, but he didn't know what to get him. Turning to his mom, he asked her about Hanukah. She told him as much as she knew, mentioning that blue and white were the colors associated with the holiday. Roger saw the scarf in passing and insisted that it would be the perfect gift. His mother agreed and two days later Mark unwrapped the scarf. A smile lit up his face as he put his first gift from his best friend around his neck. The scarf from that day on had become a part of Mark. The scarf was a part of Roger that Mark always took with him. The act of leaving the scarf behind was poignant and scared Collins a little. Next to his camera, the blue and white, slightly frayed scarf was the most important material possession Mark owned. And Mark didn't own much. The scarf was as much of an extension of Mark as his camera. Collins gently folded it and set it on the arm of the beaten couch. The sound of a beeper going off shook Collins from his thoughts. _AZT break_.


	2. No time like the present

**Disclaimer:** I own not a notion. I rent.

To **EloraCooper4**- Thank you so much for your kind words. I hope I continue to keep your interest with this story.

Random Song Note: D...naw I'm just kidding. "Defying Gravity" from Wicked is amazing. Why do I not listen when people tell me something is awesome.

Collins could hear the bells chiming in a church somewhere near Alphabet City for the six o'clock hour. Mark hadn't yet returned and Collins was starting to get nervous. Mark had a tendency to blend in with the crowd and avoided muggings, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. With the mood Mark was in, Collins doubted he was giving much thought to his own well-being. Also, it was getting colder out. During the days, the sun provided warmth as it always did in early fall, but the nights were slowly but surely getting colder, signaling the approach of winter.

"Hey man." Roger said as he plopped himself down on the end of the couch. Rinsing a dish in the sink, Collins gave Roger a small nod. He had spent the rest of the day very productively. He had finished his crossword, graded everything that needed graded, worked on his dissertation (as much as he could, his concentration was pretty much shot after the earlier events) and now was cleaning up the loft. Most of the day Collins couldn't stop thinking about Roger and Mark and what was going to happen if something didn't change soon. He'd come to a decision and was locked in an internal battle not to back down. Roger got up and grabbed a freshly washed glass off the towel which Collins was using to drain the dishes on. He filled it with water and chugged it down.

"You're washing that, I hope you know." Collins raised an eyebrow at Roger.

Roger grinned, "I know, I will. Thanks for doing the dishes."

Collins shook his head imperceptibly. Right now, Roger was Roger. But soon the anxiety would settle in and Roger would need a hit. Then he wouldn't be the young man Collins knew anymore and Collins was determined to get his friend back. Not just for himself and Roger's own well-being, but also for Mark who seemed to be falling apart in front of his eyes, if today's incident was any indicator.

Roger had made his way back to the couch. Noticing Mark's scarf, Roger picked it up and showed it to Collins, "Where is Mark anyway?"

"He went out filming."

"When? And why didn't he take his scarf? He never leaves it." Collins detected hurt in Roger's green eyes. _Good, feel something besides numb for once. Think about what you're doing to the person you call your best friend._

"He left a little after you got back."

"He should be back by now. I hope he's alright." Roger got up and looked out the large window behind the couch which looked down over the street. Collins remained silent. For once Roger was home, he wasn't high and he was thinking about someone besides himself. As the minutes ticked by, Roger became more agitated. Collins wasn't sure if withdrawal was setting in, or if it was because of Mark.

"He definitely should be home by now. What if he's lying in an ally or something? Fuck, what if he got mugged Collins?" Collins bit back remarks about Mark thinking the same thoughts regarding Roger night after night.

At ten after nine, the loft door slid open and Mark walked in looking no worse for wear. Collins' relief came out in a sigh. Spending an entire day worrying about his two best friends was too much. His decision only became more cemented.

"Hey." Mark nodded. He placed his camera on the table and took off his coat. He didn't notice the red seeping into Roger's cheeks or the anger, very visible in his eyes. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge Roger's existence. His focus was solely on Collins. _This doesn't bode well_, thought Collins. Mark looked better than he did when he left the loft earlier, but the tension was so thick in the room that it could practically be seen.

"Boy, that's it. You're getting a curfew. Be inside this loft before the streetlights come on or Roger and I will hang out the window calling your name." Collins gave a small chuckle, "All that time you were gone, you'd better have gotten some decent footage." The tightness in his chest dissipated and he silently begged Roger to keep quiet. In his own way, Collins had let Mark know that they had been worried.

"I was all over the city today, Collins. People were everywhere. I got so many different interactions between tourists and the homeless," Mark's eyes lit up and his hands started moving spastically. _Always a sign he's excited,_ Collins thought. "There was even a rally in Central Park to stop AIDS. It was amazing. The only problem was I had to watch my film. What I would have given for another two reels. If I wasn't working on my other film…"Mark trailed off. His other film, a romantic comedy that was neither romantic nor humorous was going nowhere fast.

"Mark, maybe you should give the other film a break. No offense, but…"

"It sucks. I know. Eh, whatever. Maybe I'll cut some stuff together and see if it works out. If it feels right, you know?" Mark plopped himself down on the couch, "Oh and don't even think about that name calling thing. Even my mother didn't do that." Collins smiled at Mark. He sat in a chair and turned his head to glance at Roger. He had crossed his arms and was currently pacing back and forth. _Don't do anything stupid. Don't get Mark all tensed up again. He's home, he's fine. Just let it go. Don't do anything stupid Roger, please_, Collins silently pleaded.

"So we're just going act like nothing happened." _Like that. _"Everything's fine. Even though he didn't care that his roommates and best friends were worried sick. That was wrong man. You shouldn't have been gone so long without calling and letting us know that you were still alive!" Roger stood in front of Mark, yelling. Mark's face started to turn a deep crimson and in a flash he was on his feet, going toe-to-toe with Roger.

"Me? I'm the one in the wrong. What about you? How many nights has it been Roger that you've given us any indication that you're still alive? How many?" Mark was practically screaming now, "I'm sick and tired of waiting for a call from some hospital telling me that you're dead because your dumb ass went and overdosed. Or a cop knocking on the door because they arrested you for buying because you just needed that one hit. We have no food, we have nothing. You waste your money on that shit when it could be used for _our_ survival. You waste your money, your time…" Mark's voice broke, "You waste your talent. But what pisses me off the most is you're wasting your life!"

Roger's fist connected with Mark's face quicker than Collins would have expected. Glasses went flying to floor as Mark tried to get out of Roger's line of fire.

"How dare you? I'm not wasting anything. I'm living my life. I'm fucking living it up which is more than I can say for you!" Another punch connected with Mark's stomach. Collins grabbed Roger and pulled him away from Mark, who was crumpled against the couch.

"Are you really that pissed at him Roger, or are you overdue for a hit? Either way, you shouldn't have done that." With more strength than Collins thought he had, he managed to drag Roger into his room and get the door closed. Leaning against it, Collins said, "Calm your ass down. We're going to talk, but I ain't talking to you when you're like this." Collins turned his attention to Mark, "You alright?" Mark nodded. He would have a black eye and be very sore the next morning, but Roger hadn't done any truly lasting physical damage to Mark.

"Collins, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so upset." Mark wheezed, "I didn't mean to start this tonight."

"Boy, there is no reason on this earth why you should be the one apologizing. This was going to happen. Tonight, tomorrow, next week- we were going to have to deal with it at some point. So we're dealing with it now. There's no time like the present." Collins sat against the door and waited for some sign from Roger that it _was_ time to deal with it.


	3. You're Not Mad?

**Disclaimer:** I own not a notion. I rent.

I seem to be on a roll today with this fic, so here's another chapter. I'm trying to get in as much writing as possible before my classes start, because there's a good chance I won't have much time for it ( Though I'll be doing my very best. Writing is cathartic for me).

Thanks go out to **EloraCooper4 **and** Abby**. Thanks so much for the positive feedback. I hope I'm doing the characters justice and "keepin it real".

Ten minutes passed before any form of sound was heard from Roger's room. Frantic sounds- things falling to the floor, drawers banging open and being slammed shut. Collins sighed. Roger was looking for his smack. From the sound of it, there wasn't any to find. Collins leaned his ear against the door and could hear Roger's heavy breathing. _So much for calming down. Prepare yourself for a battle, Collins._ A soft thump against the door caused Collins to jump back a little.

"Collins, man? Come on, let me out. I'm calm." Roger's voice was strained and there was another soft thump.

"You don't sound too calm. And I'm not letting you out. All you're going to do is buy more smack. You can forget that boy. Hope you enjoyed your last hit, because it was just that, your last. You're getting clean." Collins breathed deeply awaiting the screaming and yelling and verbal abuse that was about to burst forth from Roger's mouth. All day long his mind had gone round and round about what to do with Roger. There was only one solution and it was going to be the hardest thing that Roger, Mark and he would ever do. There would be long days and hard nights. _But hey, we're used to tough. Bohemia is very tough and unforgiving. We should be pros by now._

Silence existed-for about four seconds. Roger's fists pounded into the door, "Let me out now! Let me the fuck out of here! You can't keep me as a prisoner! You can't do that! And I'll do whatever the hell I want to with my life! You don't get to make my decisions for me!"

Collins pushed his back harder into the door. There was no way that Roger was going to get out. Collins would hog-tie him if he had to, but Roger wasn't leaving the loft until he could be trusted to not head straight for The Man. "You can't make your own decisions right now Roger. Your body is addicted and it thinks it needs that shit. It doesn't."

"I _need_ it Collins! I _need_ it! I need it right now!" An extremely forceful kick to the door almost made Collins back away, fearful. But he held his ground.

"What's going on?" Mark stood in the doorway of his room. Collins had ordered him to lie down after Roger's violent display earlier.

"Oh, Roger's just throwing a fit because I won't let him go get high. He's pissed because I'm forcing him to get clean. Doesn't like it when I make his decisions for him. Even though my decision lets him live, and his will most likely kill him. Nothing special." Collins shrugged.

Mark just stood there. There wasn't anything that he could say. He wanted Roger clean. He also wanted to live. Collins was strong, but Roger became very powerful when something stood in the way of something he wanted. And Mark could not take Roger when he was like that. Despite being skinny and shorter than Roger, Mark held his own pretty well. Not when Roger was desperate.

The phone ringing interrupted the silence outside Roger's door, even though the swearing and shouting continued on the other side.

"_SPEEEEAAAAK!"_

"_Hey guys. It's Benny. I'm not going to make it home tonight. Just thought I'd let you know so you weren't wondering. Alison and I are…well…never mind. So stop worrying Mark. Hope Davis is home, safe and sound. I'll see you…whenever I see you. Later."_

Collins and Mark glanced at each other. Neither one had even given Benny a second thought since Mark had gotten back to the loft.

"Why don't you go back to bed? I got this." Collins nodded toward the door.

"I can't just leave you here. We'll take turns during the night."

"No, you need to rest. I'm not the one who got my ass kicked tonight. I can handle this."

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah, go ahead. Good night."

"Alright. Night, Collins. If you need anything or…well, if you need anything, wake me up." Mark headed back into his room and gingerly collapsed on the bed. His stomach was sore and he couldn't really see out of his right eye. Thank God that punch hadn't broken his glasses. Mark didn't know what would have happened if that were the case. He couldn't afford milk, how was he going to afford a new pair of glasses?

He could hear Roger's pleas to Collins. How could heroin mean more than anything else? The fact that Roger, his best friend, beat the crap out of him hadn't escaped his mind. He was dumbstruck by the very thought. _The funny thing is I'm not mad at him. I know that it wasn't him, it was the smack. I should be mad at him though. I wish I could be mad at him. I want so badly to be angry with him. Why am I so calm about this? I was mad at him, I was. I yelled, I remember that. Why am I suddenly okay with the fact that he punched me? I should be pissed as hell. But I'm not. I'm worried. Maybe that's my default- Worried. Maybe when I don't understand what to feel I feel worried. But I am worried. He's got to stop. It's going to kill him. It's going to take him away from us. _Mark's thoughts swirled endlessly until a fitful sleep overcame him and he could no longer hear Roger's tirade.


	4. Welcome and Revelation

**Disclaimer: **I own not a notion. I rent.

**Thank you** to everyone who has reviewed! I am humbled by your kind words and I'm so glad that everyone is enjoying the story so far :)

I apologize for not updating for a few days. Saturday was a home football game (which we won! YAY!) and then I met up with a ton of friends I haven't seen all summer. So I haven't been around the computer for awhile. But I can make it up to you with this update. I hope it continues to live up to standards. I added some humor because it was getting a little heavy there.

Collins sat in front of Roger's bedroom door for an hour before Roger quieted down. The kicking stopped. The yelling ceased.

"Collins? You still there?" Roger's voice sounded hoarse and strained.

"Yeah, Roger. I'm still here. You okay?"

"I'd be a lot better if you let me out of this room, but I know you're not going to, are you?"

"Not tonight man. Tomorrow is negotiable though." There were a few minutes of silence.

"I hit Mark, didn't I?"

"Yeah, Rog."

"I didn't mean to. I mean I was pissed, but I didn't mean to hurt him. Is he okay?"

"He's fine. But I don't want you dismissing this Roger. You hit your best friend for no good reason. I want you to think about if drugs are more important than your friendship with Mark."

"When did you turn into a psychiatrist?"

"Don't get smart. I'm just trying to make you see that right now, everything is pretty well shot to hell. Today was a bad day Roger. For you, for Mark and for me. Don't dismiss this like you dismiss just about everything else. You hit your best friend! And I'm not hearing a lot of regret in your voice." How could Roger be so hard-headed? Collins knew that Mark already forgave Roger for the fight. It was just what Mark did. He never held grudges, especially when it came to Roger. For the past few months Roger had walked all over Mark, taking his friendship for granted. Yet Mark was always there when Roger needed him. _Which is a good thing, because Roger is really going to need Mark when the real withdrawal starts to set in._

"You think that I don't realize that I hit him! I do. I feel bad, alright! I feel really shitty right now. And no, it's not because I want a hit." A pause, "Is Mark mad?" Roger's voice cracked.

"I don't know man. You're going to have to ask him that yourself. I would put that on my list of things to do tomorrow, if I were you."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'll be right out here if you need anything."

"You don't have to watch the door. I won't leave, I promise."

"Yeah, but I really like this spot. After almost two hours here, my ass has melded to the floor. That and your promises don't really mean much right now, man."

"Whatever. Night." Collins heard the thump of Roger's body hitting the mattress. Readjusting his body against the door, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Bright sunlight roused Collins from his very fitful and very uncomfortable sleep. Turning his head away from the direct light, he opened his eyes. Where the hell was he? _Oh yeah. Playing sentry outside Roger's door. _Stretching his back, he winced as the kinks worked their way out of his muscles.

Collins leaned his right ear against the door of Roger's room and listened. Heavy snoring could be heard from within. _Well at least someone got some decent sleep. God, I'm getting too old for this shit. _

Silently, Collins stood and made his way the few feet to Mark's open bedroom door. The filmmaker was asleep, but his usual peaceful, boyish countenance was shadowed. Collins shook his head. _It shouldn't have gotten this far. It never should have come to blows between these two. I should have stepped in sooner. Mark shouldn't have to deal with this. Roger shouldn't either, but Roger brought this on himself. I just want our little family to return to normalcy. _

After a short trip to the bathroom, hearing focused in on any little noise that might mean Roger was awake; Collins tiptoed into the kitchen area to make coffee. His eyes flitted back and forth from what he was doing to Roger's door. Sitting at the table, Collins finally allowed himself to relax somewhat and enjoy the quiet of the morning.

"Good morning my new roommates!" The loft door slid open with a bang and there in the doorway stood Alphabet City's resident drama queen and protester of all things protest-able, Maureen Johnson.

Collins put his head in his hands. _Well, it was nice while it lasted._

"Well don't look so happy to see me Collins. Where are the other boys, because I've got tons of stuff and I need big, strapping men to help me get it up the stairs," Maureen paused, then scowled, "Don't tell me you forgot I was moving in today. Sunday, September 22, that's what you, Roger, Benny and Mark told me. You said I could move in today. Don't tell me that I have to haul all my stuff back to the old apartment which isn't _mine _anymore? Collins!"

Collins and Mark had met Maureen at one of Roger's first gigs with The Well Hungarians. After many lunches and dinners at The Life Café, all four roommates had become fast friends with the part-time waitress, part-time actress. Maureen had explained to them two weeks ago that she was being evicted from her apartment (she couldn't pay rent, something the guys empathized with) and Mark had suggested she move in with them. It was no secret that Mark had a crush on Maureen. He showed it openly by blushing whenever she flirted with him. Maureen also showed interest in Mark. She found herself very attracted to him. Guys in glasses had always turned her on. But it wasn't just his glasses- he was sweet, he had an infectious laugh (when he allowed himself to laugh openly around her), and he had two of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Yes, he was geeky but he was also adorable. The thought of Mark and Maureen together perplexed Roger, Benny and Collins. The beginnings of a relationship were there, but nothing had happened as of yet.

"Don't whine. Yes, I forgot you were moving in, but things around here aren't all that great right now. And keep your voice down. Mark and Roger are still asleep."

"No. No, Mark's not. Hey Maureen." Mark had emerged from his room and made his way over to the coffeepot. Usually Mark blushed whenever he found himself in the company of Maureen Johnson, but other things were on his mind. His face and stomach were sore and he moved very stiffly.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Maureen stared intently at the deep black bruise.

"That's why I forgot you were moving in today, okay. I'll explain more later." Collins jumped out of his chair and stood right in front of Roger's room. He had heard a groan and knew that Roger was now awake. It was true, Collins couldn't keep Roger in his bedroom for the rest of his life, so it was time to let him out. He wished that Maureen would have waited a little while to decide to move in, but she was going to have to deal with Roger's withdrawal now too.

Roger tentatively opened his door and came face-to-face with Collins, "Can I come out now?"

Collins stepped aside, "Yes, but you ain't leaving the loft. There's coffee and then Mark and I will go get Maureen's stuff while you stay here and help her unpack."

"Okay. Hey Maureen. Forgot that you were moving in today." Roger made his way to the coffeepot, skirting around Mark slightly. Even though he didn't openly admit it, he was afraid of Mark. His best friend, whom he'd physically attacked, had yet to say a word to him.

Silence enveloped the loft as Collins, Mark and Roger drank their coffee. Maureen stood by the table, utterly perplexed. What the hell was going on around here? She was afraid to say anything because everyone looked pissed and she didn't feel like getting yelled at.

Roger cleared his throat quietly and looked at Mark, wincing at the very visible mark that he himself had left on Mark's face, "I just want to say…I'm sorry for last night. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to get that mad. I don't know what came over me and I hope that someday you can forgive me." It sounded rehearsed but Collins thought it was a pretty decent apology, especially for Roger.

"I forgive you Roger."

"What?"

"I forgive you. I just hope that now you see why you need to stop."

"I do. I never want to do that again. I never want to not have control like that again. But I have to ask Mark, how can you forgive me so easily? I hurt you and I can barely live with that fact. I can't imagine what you think of me." Roger hung his head.

"Rog, we've been friends for too many years for me to give up on you now. Besides I still think the same thing I've always thought of you. You'll always be my stubborn, pig-headed jackass best friend, who's like my brother that I would most often like to beat over the head with a frying pan."

Roger smiled and gently hugged Mark, "Man, I am such a prick sometimes. I must get it from you."

"Me? I'm not the one who wrecked my brand new car three days after my sixteenth birthday!"

"Hey, you said that was forgiven! Besides, remember that time you purposely broke two strings on my guitar so I couldn't play?"

"You deserved it. That Goddamn _Musetta's Waltz_. If I ever end up in hell, that's what will be playing on repeat."

"Leave _Musetta_ out of it! You love that song, you know you do." Roger laughed and put an arm around Mark's shoulder, "Will you help me get clean?" he asked softly.

"Of course, Roger. That's what friends are for."

"Alright, that's enough of this mushy shit. You're probably scaring the crap out of Mo. Let's get her unpacked. Mark, I better not catch you carrying anything heavy or I'll beat your ass boy. Take a break when you need to." Collins smiled fondly at Mark.

"Okay, okay. I feel fine though." Mark smiled at Roger, "We'll be back".

Collins and Mark disappeared through the loft door. Roger's eyes stared at the remainder of his coffee. He knew that he had to change his life. He'd spent most of the night hating himself for what he did to Mark and what he was doing to his own body. _I hope I can do this. I have to do this. I can't believe I hurt my best friend, all for some temporary satisfaction. Temporary numbness. At least I won't be alone. I'll have help from my friends. Maybe April and I can get clean together. I bet she would be so much happier if she wasn't high all the time. She told me once that she hates herself sometimes. I think I get what she meant, finally. I hope she drops by today. I should call her. We could do this together. We'll both have so much support. Maybe after she'll be able to finish a story and I can finish a song. Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

"Roger?" Maureen watched as Roger gazed into his coffee cup. She was so incredibly confused, but knew that something big was happening to him. She still found it hard to believe that he had hit Mark. What was going on? Collins had a lot of explaining to do. "Roger?" He had yet to answer her.

"Yeah? Sorry Maureen. What's up?"

"What is _going_ on?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.

"I'm not getting high anymore."


	5. Beginnings and Endings

**Disclaimer:** I own not a notion. I rent.

**THANK YOU TO ALL WHO REVIEWED! I appreciate it greatly.**

Well, here it is. Sorry for the delay. Hope it continues to keep interest and is enjoyed by anyone who likes the story. By the way-the ending isn't much a cliffhanger if you've heard the OBCR, seen the musical or read the libretto. But it was the best place to end the chapter.

"December 2nd, 8:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. I haven't had the time to even think about filming, let alone actually film." Mark sighed. Three months had passed since the morning in September when Roger vowed to lay off drugs. And those three months were some of the most turbulent months Mark had ever experienced.

Fall slipped into winter and the loft was constantly freezing. Money was tight and food was scarce. Nothing unusual for the season, but everything seemed harder this year. Collins, Maureen and Benny were the breadwinners amongst the roommates, but their measly wages didn't spread very far. Collins' money, as it was unanimously agreed upon, would go toward his AZT, which was very expensive. Maureen used the money she brought in waitressing at The Life Café for food, and Benny's job paid well enough to cover most of the utilities. The remainder of their wages was pooled and used for rent. Mark had sold a few photographs to a local art gallery, but that money was long gone. Roger's gigs had lessened and his band was on the verge of breaking up. April had a job at the local library, shelving books, but those wages didn't pay much either. She had moved in with Roger when they both decided to go clean, so the loft-though rather spacious-was as full as it had ever been. Too many people and short tempers coupled with frustration made for a very hostile environment at times.

Mark swept his camera across the loft, "A peaceful evening for once. Roger and Benny are out buying some groceries. What little we can afford. April is asleep. Collins is smoking on the balcony and Maureen is curled up next to me." Pointing the lens at Maureen's face, she gave him a weary smile. Turning the camera off, he leaned back on the worn couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Mark had recently entered into a real relationship with Maureen, and though he was as happy as he'd ever been, the constant tension in the loft put somewhat of a strain on every relationship. It didn't help that Roger and April were on and off drugs. Mark and Collins did their best to make sure that they stayed away from heroin and The Man, but there was only so much they could do. Once the withdrawal got unbearable, it was inevitable that one or both of them would end up running into the ally to buy smack. Collins had recently implemented a No Tolerance policy. Roger's room was checked daily for drugs and whenever he or April went out, Collins, Mark or Maureen had to be with them. So far, so good. But the nastiest stage of withdrawal was nearing and Mark knew that things would get bad once again.

"Mark? You okay?" Maureen's brown eyes gazed worriedly into Mark's.

Mark shook himself from his daze, "Yeah, Mo. I'm fine." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, longer and more passionate. It had been awhile since they could enjoy the luxury of just being together. Most nights they were just too tired to do anything or everything was hurried. Tonight, though. Tonight was different. They had no responsibilities and all the time in the world. Kisses deepened, hands groped and Mark lost himself in Maureen's scent, Maureen's hands, Maureen's hair, Maureen's…

"Ahem. You two want to a get a room or something?" Collins smirked as Mark blushed deeply.

"Sorry Collins. I think we're just going to…take this elsewhere." Mark grabbed Maureen's hand and pulled her in the direction of his bedroom.

"I wish you would. Have fun." Collins chuckled to himself. Those two-such an unlikely pair, but it worked. He could see the affection each held for the other in their eyes. Mark was happy and that was all that mattered to Collins, since the past few months had been extremely tough on him. Sitting on the couch, Collins grabbed an old copy of the Village Voice and read. About an hour later, April emerged from the bedroom. Her red hair was tousled from sleep, but Collins noticed that her eyes were red and puffy.

"Hey April. Sleep well?"

"Yeah…hey Collins, I need the bathroom for awhile."

"Okay. It's all yours. Hey, Maureen told me you were upset after your trip to the clinic. She said that you didn't want to talk about it on the way back, but if you changed your mind, I'm here. Just so you know." In truth, Maureen had said that April was nearly catatonic on the walk back to the loft and had immediately barricaded herself in her and Roger's bedroom. Roger hadn't even been able to get her to talk to him. Withdrawal made his temper short, and Benny had made the suggestion that Roger leave with him for the store to give April some space.

"Thanks Collins." April hesitated, her hand on the bathroom door, "Actually, I…um…never mind. I'm fine. I'm just going to…I'll be in here." Collins could see the tears welling in her bright green eyes. She looked far older than her 23 years. Her face was lined and it broke Collins' heart to see her look so broken. He wished that she would talk to him and maybe he could ease some of her pain. Collins understood why April couldn't talk to Roger. He was a bear right now and she needed someone calm and understanding to listen to her.

"Baby girl, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything. Why don't you come sit here and talk to me?"

April's hand left the doorknob, but quickly resumed its place, "No…I…there's something that I have to do. I mean, I just have to take a bath. I feel dirty." The last was murmured quietly.

"Alright, well when you're done, come out here and-we don't even have to talk. We can just sit here. Okay?"

"Yeah…sure. Thanks Collins. Thank you for everything you've done for me over these past three months."

"No problem. That's what friends are for."

"You are a good friend. A very good friend, especially to Roger. He's lucky to have you."

"_You_ have me too April. We're friends too."

"I know. I do. I'm just going to…" she pointed to the bathroom.

"Alright. I'll see you when you come out."

"Yeah…Bye Collins." She disappeared through the door, closing it behind her.

For some strange reason that Collins couldn't place, he didn't think he'd be talking to April again that night. Grabbing his cigarettes, he went and sat out on the fire escape, finding himself deep in uneasy thought.

Mark blearily opened his eyes. He hadn't been asleep long, but when nature called-it called. Maureen was still asleep, head on his chest. Placing a kiss on the crown of her head, he moved to pull on his sweat pants and padded quietly to the bathroom. Finding the door closed, he knocked lightly.

"Anyone in there?" No response. Glancing behind him, Mark saw Collins' shadowed figure sitting on the fire escape. Pulling the door open, Mark's eyes widened in terror and disbelief. The copper smell hit his nostrils and he bit his tongue to stop himself from vomiting.

"Collins! Call 911!"


	6. The Fall

_**Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent.**_

_**Inspriration hit twice in one day. My mind may be working sluggishly (I'm sick), but my inspiration is on overdrive. I re-read my last chapter and just knew what had to come next. Plenty of Collins angst. I hope you enjoy. I'm particulary proud of this chapter.**_

_**Thanks to all my reviewers! A big shout-out to EloraCooper4 who is truly too kind to me. I take your words to heart and it keeps me writing. Thank you so much!**_

_We've got AIDS._

Three little words that changed the lives of three people forever.

One person, it now defined him. The note and the circumstance in which the note was found made Roger who he is now. Withdrawn and filled with grief. He cries into Mark's shoulder and spends his day in deep depression. He deals with not just his grief over April's death, but the withdrawal that has set in his body. He shakes uncontrollably, vomits everything he manages to swallow and hallucinates. He calls out in the middle of the night for Mark, his rock. Mark holds him as he sobs, rocking Roger's body gently. Roger deals with three life-changing circumstances at once and he does not deal well.

With the note another person is brought great sorrow. Mark would outlive his best friend. Any little germ was now a lethal threat to Roger's immune system. Mark had been forever changed after finding April in the bathtub. He had seen something that was usually the norm for horror movies. He had witnessed it and he was scared. He now spends his days taking care of Roger. Some nights he sleeps sitting up in Roger's bed, Roger's head on his lap. The nights he isn't with Roger he can't sleep. Nightmares of April flicker in his mind.

The other person is wracked with guilt. Collins blames himself. He should have made her talk to him. He could have stopped her. She might still be alive today if he had forced her to talk to him. She didn't have to die. He doesn't sleep- he replays that night over and over in his mind. He can't believe how quickly things can change. He can't believe how quickly someone can be alive and then dead. Philosophers mention the intricacies of both life and death and they even mention how fast one becomes the other. Collins never truly believed them until that day.

It's been a month and a half since Mark found April's body in the bathtub. Since then, the entire bathroom has been cleaned each day. Collins scrubs the tiles with disinfectant. He wants to kill the disease that has not touched Mark or Maureen, but he also wants to kill his guilt. So he scrubs, hoping that the pink stains will fade and take with them his crushing guilt. He scrubs at three o'clock in the morning the night before he leaves for MIT. He has a new teaching job there. He will return in May, only to leave again in July. He is not excited to leave. With this teaching job comes added guilt. Mark and Maureen will have to take care of Roger. Truth be told, Collins hasn't been much help in that department anyway. His guilt makes it hard to look at Roger. So he scrubs.

Mark tosses and turns in his sleep. He is in the throes of a nightmare- the same one he's had since that night. _April. Blood everywhere. The coppery smell. We've got AIDS. Roger and Benny's return. Roger's screams. Collins' silent tears. Maureen, sobbing. His own screams that he has yet to vocalize. But wait…someone is screaming. Is he screaming?_

"Mark? Mark, wake up! Baby, open your eyes!" Maureen's shrill voice cuts through his nightmare, jolting him awake. Mark's eyes open and he is horrified. He _was_ screaming.

"You okay, Mark?" Collins is leaning in the doorway staring at him.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine." Mark struggles to even his breathing out so that Maureen and Collins will believe him.

His name in a strangled cry sends Mark flying out of bed and down the hall to Roger.

"He's not fine. That's the third time this week, Collins. I'm worried about him. And I'm worried about you. What are you doing up so late? Don't you have an early flight tomorrow?" Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Maureen rubs her eyes.

"I know Mo. Worry about him and Roger okay? I'll be fine."

"Are you leaving because you can't be here anymore?"

"No! Why would you think that?"

"Because some days_ I_ want to leave. I can't stand hearing Roger cry. It kills me to watch the way Mark rocks him to sleep. Mark gives Roger all the energy he has and Roger takes it from him at night, while during the day he beats it out of him. Roger attacked Mark again today. In order to get out of the loft."

"I know, I was there." Collins sighed and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"I love Mark. I do. I know you doubt it, but I do. He's detaching from his own feelings. He hasn't dealt with what's happened yet and that's why he can't get a decent night's sleep. He's always on edge and-here's my selfish moment-he's never there for me anymore. He's given Roger everything and there's nothing left for him to give anyone else."

"Maureen, I have never doubted that you love Mark. But you have to be patient. Roger will improve and so will Mark. You just have to give it time."

"I'm sick of being patient, Collins. I want my life back." Tears begin to run down her cheeks. Collins sits next to her, comforting her as best he can. He understands her frustration, but bigger things are at hand.

"Go back to sleep, Mo." Collins lays a comforting hand on her shoulder and pushes her gently into the mattress. Closing the door halfway, he moves to peer into Roger's room. Mark is holding Roger, murmuring softly words that Collins cannot hear. Another sigh escapes his lips. So fast. Everything went from bad to worse so incredibly fast. In a part of his mind that he doesn't want to acknowledge, he's glad that he will be leaving this loft and the people in it for a little while. Guilt spreads in waves through his body and he immediately goes back to his scrubbing. Kneeling in front of the tub on the cold porcelain floor scrubbing away, tears drop from his eyes. He cries for April, he cries for Roger, he cries for Mark-But he's really shedding tears for the past. The carefree bohemian life that he took for granted. "Even the wise have things yet to learn". Collins learned that lesson the hard way.


	7. The end and the beginning

**Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent.**

Mark lay prone on his bed, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Numerous cracks traverse their way along the white plaster and very large water stains are within his range of sight, but he sees neither. His mind is elsewhere. For the better part of the day he's been laying there remembering the past year. It had been the single hardest year of his life, but he knew that Roger had had it even worse. So much had happened. People came in and out of their lives, loved ones were lost and friends changed. Roger, who Mark had always thought he knew better than he knew himself, had become a different person. Roger made it through the year anniversary of April's death, with tears and sadness and depression. Then again, they had all cried and mourned their lost friend.

Memories of the past year flash by like scenes in a film and in many ways, Mark wishes that it were fiction. That none of it had happened. But it did, and he remembers all too clearly the details.

_Close up on Roger, trembling in my arms. He sobs so hard he can barely breathe._

_"I'm going to die Mark. Just like she did."_

_"No, you're not Roger. I won't let you. April chose what she did. You're not going to do that."_

_"What if I do? Mark, I can't do this anymore."_

_"Yes, you can. You've been here before Roger. You'll make it."_

_"So what! I make it through withdrawal and then I die from AIDS? I don't want this!"_

_"Who said that you were going to die from AIDS?" Roger sits up, pulling away from me. He stares at me as if I'm an idiot._

_"What? Everyone who has AIDS dies, Mark!"_

_"First off, you're HIV positive. That's not AIDS. Second, if you would just take your AZT then you could prevent it from turning into AIDS. Medicine is advancing. Look at Collins. He's able to live a normal life and he's had it much longer than you. Stop acting like this is it, Rog. I don't want to lose you." Tears spring to my eyes. This is the first time I've said it out loud. I know that Roger is going to die before me. I haven't come to terms with it; how does anyone? But I'm starting. I'm reminded of the night we had our fight about his using. I remember thinking that heroin would take him away from us. How prophetic could I have been? He won't die from an overdose, he'll die from a virus on a dirty needle. _

"_I don't want to leave you either. I don't know what I'd do without you Mark." Roger begins to sob again. I hold him, rocking him back and forth like I've done since everything happened._

"_So don't give up and leave. Stay here and freeze and starve and struggle with me. We came here for a reason Rog. We came to make our dreams come true. Don't lose sight of that."_

"_I can't help it. Everything's shit Mark. Everything! How can I think about dreams?"_

"_As quickly as everything went to shit, that's how quickly it can change again. Just don't give up. Besides dreams are all we have. And they're free." _

_He nods into my shoulder and he looks at me with a faint smile on his face. Later on that night he emerges from his room. He takes his AZT, eats a full meal and then takes a long overdue shower. He sits with me and Maureen on the couch. About an hour later Collins calls. We screen and then I pick up the phone. Roger speaks to him for the first time since he left two months ago for MIT. Days go by and every day is an improvement. Except for the music. He refuses to pick up his guitar. The loft is quiet, too quiet. I mentioned Musetta's Waltz to him earlier this morning. He just shook his head and disappeared into his room. I'd give anything to hear it one more time. He won't leave the loft except to sit on the roof of our building. He spends his days staring out the window, deep in melancholy thought. He does that a lot now; thinking. Things change so fast…so fast…_

Another memory flashes by:

_Benny. He's married now. To Alison Grey of the Westport Greys. Has been for the past four months. They married quickly and now he's gone. He proposed the day before April killed herself. I can't help but think him a sell-out. He came back to the loft the day after April's suicide. I said some pretty harsh things, we all did._

"_What the hell happened?"_

"_April's dead." Maureen says quietly. Tears brim her brown eyes._

"_How?"_

"_She killed herself." I answer just as quietly. Roger's in his room and I don't want him to hear. He's upset enough as it is. _

"_How?"_

"_Jesus, Benny. Does it matter? She's dead. She slit her wrists in the bathroom, okay? Is that what you wanted?" Maureen's voice rises and I place a hand on her arm. _

"_I'm sorry…I just…I'm shocked. How's Roger?"_

"_He's bad. Look, she left a note saying that they had AIDS. He tested positive for HIV. He's not…he's in bad shape man." Collins stares at the floor. He's been taking April's death hard, harder than Maureen and I. _

"_Jesus" Benny mutters, "Is there anything that I can do? I mean, I know I'm moving out and everything, but if you need anything. I want…I want to help out."_

_Something snaps in my brain. "Yeah, just leave. Why not? You're never here anyway. It's not like we could have used your help with April and Roger when they were trying to quit using. Why care now Benny? Why should you give a damn about anyone but yourself?"_

"_Mark." Maureen's hand grabs mine and Collins has his hand on my shoulder. _

"_What the hell Mark? I'm trying to help. I want to help. I'm sorry about everything. Roger and April were my friends too."_

"_You don't know what friends are Benny. You have no idea." I push away from everyone and stand on the fire escape. Bits of an argument reach my ears through the open window. Maureen calls him a bastard and Collins voices my thoughts about him being a sell-out. I shiver as the cold winter wind blows through my thin sweater. The loft door slams shut._

"_Mark, baby. Come in, please. It's cold out there." _

"_Mark, get your skinny ass in here before you catch pneumonia." I sigh and enter the loft, closing the window behind me. Collins and Maureen. Two of my three constants.  
_

A memory of a hot July night springs into his memory. Collins had returned for his break, but was leaving the next day. Mark had found him sitting on the fire escape smoking a joint.

_"Hey Collins."_

_"Hey Mark."_

_"You look deep in thought. If I had a penny, I would give it to you. However, I'm very very very broke."_

_Collins laughs; his deep rich laugh that starts in his belly and works its way up his throat. I can't help but smile._

_"You know, as much as I hate this Bohemian hell sometimes, I miss it. MIT is far from this life, man. It's rich and warm and screams welcome. Yet our loft is poor and cold and bare, but it still manages to have a welcoming air to it. MIT ain't home. This is home and it always will be. I can't fit in there, not that I'd want to, but I just can't get it to feel like home. New York City is truly where my heart is. How fucked up is that? I'd give anything to have the money these spoiled sons-of-bitches at MIT have, but I wouldn't move a muscle. Just stay here in this loft with you and Roger and Maureen. Granted we'd be able to eat and afford heat." Collins chuckles._

_"I'd rather have you here too. This doesn't feel like home when you're not here. It feels empty." He puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him._

_"Boy, I'm always here. If you want, I'll smoke more weed in the loft. That way the smell will always linger and you'll think of me."_

_"It is possible for you to smoke more weed? I mean, really. Is it a viable possibility?" _

_"You never know, but I can sure as hell try." His eyes get serious, "I never got the chance to apologize for the way I acted after April's death. I wasn't there when you needed me and I'm sorry. I feel like I abandoned you and Maureen."_

_"Collins, you got a job! You didn't abandon us. You're working and making money and living life and that's all I care about. I'm proud of you. I remember when you told me…when you told me about that night and what happened before she…I wouldn't want to be here either! Hell, I don't want to be here now. But I am. I'm fine, Maureen's fine, Roger's getting better each day. We're all getting better. We're okay."_

_"Mark, man. I love you boy." Collins envelopes me in a big bear hug. I had never realized just how much guilt and pain he was holding onto. _

_"I love you too. But can we lose the boy thing? I am 24 years old."_

_"Hell no. Until you stop looking like you're twelve, you're boy."_

_"Damnit." _

_"Don't you have a date with a lovely lady tonight?"_

_"Yes. Why are you leering?"_

_"Marky's getting laid. Marky's getting laid." Collins says in a sing-song voice that makes me want to punch him. Instead I grin, wickedly.  
_

_"Marky's been getting laid for some time now. Maybe you should try it."_

_"Oh! Damn boy! I am impressed! When did you start back-talking?"_

_"When you started calling me Marky."_

_Collins laughs again and shakes his head, "Damn…well, have fun tonight. And maybe I'll find some fun myself. Go get dressed before Maureen is finished. There'll be no end to the bitching if you take longer than she does to get ready."_

_"That's not a viable possibility either." I pat Collins on the back and go put on a decent-looking outfit that won't shame my beautiful girlfriend. Collins left in the morning for MIT. Then, Maureen left. Maureen...  
_

Mark sighs and closes his eyes. Maureen. He could write script after script about her. The perfect character; his muse. Yet every time he sits down to write, the paper is left blank. There's too much to Maureen to capture in words or on film. Things had changed so quickly between them.

"_Mark, baby. Pookie." _

_Pookie. I hated that nickname. She never used it before she started cheating. I'm not naïve. I knew she was screwing other guys. I could smell the cologne on her clothes when she'd come home from an "audition" and wrap her arms around my neck. I don't know why I put up with it. I guess I was scared to be alone with my thoughts and memories of April's body and Roger's utter and complete despair. I needed light in my life and I was scared to let that light go out. We'd been together for just about a year. The cheating began when I was spending my days with Roger, helping him through his withdrawal. I admit it; I didn't pay enough attention to her. I take responsibility for the eventual demise of our relationship. But getting the shit beat out of you by your best friend, only to have him minutes later collapse in your arms in tears does keep a person pretty preoccupied. _

_We were at dinner. Our first date since April's death. _

"_Pookie, there's something I need to tell you." No preamble. Typical tact-less Maureen. _

"_Okay."_

"_There's someone else. I should have told you before now, but I was scared. I wanted to make sure it was what I wanted."_

"_Uh-huh…"_

"_Her name's Joanne. She's a lawyer and I think she's the one." She smiles nervously._

"_Right. Let…let me just process this for a second. You're in love with a woman, Joanne who's a lawyer and you think she's 'the one' for you. You've been cheating on me for…my guess is quite a few months and I suppose you want me to be happy because this is what you want?" _

"_Well…yeah. I mean, you want me to be happy don't you Pookie?"_

"_Don't call me Pookie. You dump me for a woman and you want me to be happy for you? I'm still stuck on the fact that you dumped me for a woman. I mean, I didn't even see this coming. You never even wore flannel shirts."_

"_Don't stereotype Mark. It's who I am."_

"_Are you sure this isn't a phase? Like girls and horses?"_

"_Yes! Come on Poo…Mark."_

"_I need to leave now. I'm going to go home and lie down and contemplate this. I'll let you know when this has sunk in." I'm almost out the door when she calls out to me._

"_I'll get my stuff tomorrow! I'm moving in with Joanne."_

_Once I'm home, I lock myself in my room and lie there thinking. Later on I talk briefly to Roger about it and he consoles me the only way Roger can; bluntly._

"_Life sucks. Love sucks. Yet we keep on living and loving. She's not worth your time anyway. You deserve someone who will actually love you."_

"_Yeah, but I'm just…I don't know."_

"_You'll get over it. Then you'll miss the sex. That'll take longer to get over, but you'll make it through."_

"_Thanks Rog."_

_But he was right. We do just keep on living and loving no matter how much we get hurt. Then there are those, like April, who decide that it's too much and they stop living and loving. Does that make them cowards? I don't think so. April was weak. If only she would have felt comfortable enough to talk to one of us. Collins reached out and she pushed him away. Is it her fault? I don't know. I'm a strong believer in fate. It was April's fate to die that day. Fate took Collins to MIT, tore Maureen and I apart and brought Roger and I closer together. Greater wheels are turning in this world and for some reason I feel something big is going to happen soon, very soon. Something life changing. Call it instinct, call it bullshit. I don't care. I just have this feeling that things are going to change. For the better._

The sound of a guitar being tuned snaps Mark out of his memories. He sits up quickly and reaches for his glasses. It's Roger in the loft. He's playing his guitar. Moving quickly Mark grabs his camera off a crate. It hasn't been used in months. There hasn't been anything to film. _Something big. _

Stepping into the main part of the loft, Mark turns the camera on focusing in on his best friend. Roger's bent over his guitar, a frown on his face. It appears as if it won't tune. _Something big…Maybe I should charge for my prophetic-like services…Only one thing to do now. Film. _

"December 24th, 9:00pm Eastern Standard Time…"

**Well, that's that. The rest is found in musical history. Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers. I appreciated all your great feedback. It's complete. I'm currently working on a story entitled "An Afternoon With Collins", so we'll see how that works out. I'm glad that I was able to finish this within 2006 and I hope that the last chapter is enjoyed by all who read it. Once again, THANK YOU for reading. **


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